


Our Winter Was Warm.

by Jeminy3



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Childbirth, Children, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Digital Art, Fanart, Illustrations, Light Angst, Multi, Pregnancy, Trans Male Character, Yuletide, illustrated fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 01:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19842256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeminy3/pseuds/Jeminy3
Summary: Originally written for a secret santa exchange on an FMA fandom server with my friends for Christmas 2018. Specifically for Ange, a sweetheart and lovely au/headcanon-jammer in regards to anything with Roy/Hughes/Gracia. They wanted Hyuroi fluff + Gracia, and we'd talked about Hughes wanting a 2nd child named Elias with either Gracia or trans man Roy (referenced here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097673/chapters/37600547), so this seemed the best gift for them. Not published till now because of life shit + bonus drawings I've added.Read the Google Doc here.Read on Tumblr here.Features: hyuroigracia poly pile, trans man Roy being pregnant, Amestrian Christmas, baby Elias arrives, lots of headcanons, mostly fluff with bits of angst. Set in a divergent 03-ish universe where Hughes lived.





	Our Winter Was Warm.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ange_de_la_Mort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ange_de_la_Mort/gifts).



> My original summary:  
> Secret Santa gift for Ange. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!  
> I did the fluffiest hyuroigracia I could think of - married and having a baby on Amestrian Christmas <3  
> 16k words and yet it still doesn't feel like enough, I could write forever about them ;_; but then I'd never finish, lol. This was very self-indulgent for me. Anyone is free to read if you are into it, I put a lot of work into it, and tried to be tasteful about the pregnancy and trans stuff, hopefully it is ok!  
>   
> 

\---

Roy wakes from dreaming, startling a little.

The nightmares seem to have lessened lately - maybe, he's not sure - either way, at least he wakes somewhat gently this time, the horrors of his brain ebbing back into his subconscious to be forgotten, for now. They leave him to blink at his surroundings and realize that he is not there again - he is in bed, at home, safe and warm within his bedsheets.

His eyes adjust to the dim, warm light of morning streaming in through the window curtains, casting everything in a sort of glow - the cozy wooden furniture, the haphazard toiletries on the dresser, the white porcelain lamp on the nightstand beside him, with pink flowers painted across its surface. Roy takes it all in, and for a hazy moment, wonders how he even reached this point in his life.

A lot has happened this past year - over a year and a half now, actually. It's been a whirlwind of events since the scarred Ishvalan appeared, and the Elrics made their grisly discoveries. Since then, Roy has exposed a deep-seeded corruption with his own government, lead a quiet, deadly rebellion against it, and personally destroyed the monster at its heart - or at least, its strongest pawn.

He gave up his dream of Fuhrership in the process, becoming branded and cast out as a traitor to his country afterwards, but in the eyes of many, he was a hero - a real hero this time, not a monster with a hero's title. Despite occasional bouts of regret, he thinks this particular exchange was worth it - figuratively, and almost literally, conquering his own Pride and ambition for the greater good.

But what feels more poignant in this moment is his more intimate accomplishments.

With enough funds and string-pulling, Roy has fully buried both his past, and past identity. Within the past few years, he finally changed the last of his records to reflect his chosen name, cutting all ties to the lonely, miserable child he once was. And even more significantly, he's changed his body as well, with an expensive, secretive chest surgery that took great pains to arrange, endure, and recover from - all without drawing suspicion. But it was done, and Roy couldn't be happier with the results.

More surgeries were a possibility, of course, but for now Roy was content with himself - he's not looking to change anything internal quite yet anyway.

Not long after that, in the midst of the chaos of the unfolding conspiracy, he finally gained the courage - or just enough blind idiocy - to finally confess the depths of his love for his dearest, dearest friend. If it made him less of a man, or even a person of dignity, ultimately it didn't matter. To keep his heart closed to it, to hide it any longer, would have slowly destroyed him.

And unbelievably - his feelings were reciprocated. Wholeheartedly, genuinely, and for a period of time that Roy had been foolish to blind himself to. The love of his life loved him back, and nothing had made him happier than in those moments when they finally consummated the years of tension and affection between them, and promised to never again be apart.

And with the blessings of a mutual friend just as dear, and their renewed devotion to each other, they could all face the danger of the previous years together.

Roy eases out of his own thoughts as he listens to the quiet breathing of another body next to him - and he turns to see the aforementioned dear friend and dearest love, Maes Hughes, lying next to him in their bed.

To his mild surprise, Maes is also awake. His usually-slick hair now a messy, unkempt mop on his head, his bare, glasses-less green eyes squinting at him. It's unfair that he's still attractive like this.

"Mornin'," he says, smiling warmly.

Roy gives him one of his many incredulous smirks. "Awake too, huh? Why didn't you say anything?"

Maes shrugs, then reaches up with a hand to brush at Roy's hair with his fingers. "I like watching you wake up. You're cute."

"No I'm not," Roy growls, but there's no real bite to it, and he's trying and failing to bite back a smile at Maes' touch. "I'm smart, charming, suave, sometimes irresistible- but I am not cute."

"Wrong. You're adorable," Maes says matter-of-factly, and he leans forward to peck him on the forehead, as if he were a precocious little child.

Roy grumbles again, frustrated both by the gentle contact and being momentarily unable to think of another retort - instead, he decides to enact his revenge by reaching up, wrapping an arm around Maes' shoulders, and gently, but assertively, pulling their mouths together for a kiss.

Maes is the one to growl a little now, and returns the gesture with affectionate lips and tongue. He's strong and hearty beneath Roy's touch, in good health save for a few new scars across his torso, some aches and pains he'll complain about sometimes. But he's allowed to - it's not every day one faces undead, unkillable homonculi and lives to tell the tale. The same went for Roy - he has his own share of injuries, resulting in several new scars and a small limp in his step, but between the two of them things could be much worse.

Eventually they are sated with their kissing, for the moment, and the two pull away to gaze at each other warmly.

"So- how you feeling?" Maes asks.

Roy blinks at him. "About what?"

"I mean- you know, in general. Still don't feel any different?"

"Oh. Mm... I don't know," Roy murmurs, searching the ceiling with his eyes. "But I do feel a little weird in the stomach, as I think about it..."

Maes' eyebrows lift up significantly. "Oh ho- stomach, huh? I think we know what's coming, then," he says, with a maddeningly knowing tone and even more maddening smile.

Roy rolls his eyes. "Ugh- I'm really not looking forward to that."

Maes just snorts. "You signed up for it, hun."

"I know," Roy says with a deflating sigh.

"You'll be fine, darling, it's only for a few months," Maes says. "...And I promise, I'll be right there keeping the hair out of your eyes when you're barfing your guts into the toilet."

"My  _ hero _ ," Roy drawls with sarcasm, snickering lightly.

Maes snorts again, then rolls forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Hey, I'm your husband now. I'm supposed to do stuff like that."

Roy smiles, but there's something wavering in his dark eyes, a bit of sadness in his tone. "Ah, Maes- if only that were true in the records..."

Maes is crestfallen for a moment, reminded that in the eyes of the Amestrian law, their recent betrothal was bare-bones at most - a loophole in the civil partnership clauses, really - and kept tightly secretive from anyone who wasn't a friend or accomplice. A proper marriage between men like themselves simply wasn't possible (yet) - much less a second marriage to give an already-taken man another partner.

But the moment passes, and Maes reaches forward and takes Roy's hands in his, considers the second ring on his finger - a brilliant silver-white band, complementing Gracia's gold one and matching Roy's own.

He intertwines their fingers, and kisses lightly at Roy's knuckles. "Someday, darling, someday. Things'll change. But even if it doesn't, as far as I'm concerned I'm yours forever, and you are mine, and I'm the luckiest man in the world to have Gracia and you both."

Roy just looks at him the whole time, looks with eyes soft with love and affection, and a smile just as warm.

\- And that smile falters slightly as Maes lids his eyes and tugs his smile into another knowing smirk. "...Besides, since when did  _ you _ start caring about the legality of a situation?"

Roy blinks, looking adorably bewildered as he searches the ceiling for an answer. "Er- When it involves the man I love?"

Maes' eyes crinkle, and he releases their hands to wrap an arm around Roy's shoulders and draw him in to laugh into his neck. "That's a shitty answer."

"I know," Roy says, snorting softly.

They cuddle together 'till the laughter dies down, and Maes proceeds to kiss Roy again, now along his neck and collarbones, working steadily down towards his chest. He nuzzles his face into the dip between his pectorals, presses his lips against the variety of scars there, surgical and otherwise. Roy sighs with contentment, petting at Maes' hair and squirming slightly when a ticklish area is touched.

Maes moves down further, trailing kisses until he's reached Roy's belly button, where his stomach is still flat and toned - but there's a bit more softness to it than usual, at least to Maes' senses. Which are, admittedly, fairly clouded with excitement due to recent developments.

He hums into his Roy's skin. "Mm. You feel softer already."

Roy snorts against him. "Bullshit."

Ignoring that, Maes keeps humming as he nuzzles at his stomach, his voice rising into a recognizable melody - a children's lullaby, one he often sang to Elicia when she was smaller and more frightened of the night.

Roy snorts again. "They can't hear you, you idiot- Gracia said it's barely the size of a pea by now, there's no organs yet."

"You can never start too early," Maes sing-songs, his lips tickling the skin of Roy's belly.

Roy suppresses his laughter. "Start what? Inducting them into appreciating your terrible singing voice?"

"Oh c'mon, I'm not  _ that _ bad," Maes grumbles, drawing away to frown at him. "Honestly, I feel sorrier about them listening to  _ you _ for the next eight months."

"Shut up," Roy laughs, and lightly shoves at Maes' shoulders to get him off him. Maes, being the larger and broader man, responds with a playful growl and a lunge, trapping Roy in a bear-hug in which he is helpless to a barrage of kisses against every part of his face. Knowing better than anyone when he's strategically out of his depth, Roy surrenders to being nothing more than a giggling mess in Maes' arms.

Suddenly there's a shuffle of footsteps, a creak of the bedroom door, and the voice of a four-year-old girl cuts through their rough-housing.

"Daddy! Stop it! You're gonna squish the baby!" Elicia cries out, a little arm stretched precariously up to the doorknob, her other arm pointing accusingly at her father.

"And Mommy says to wake up, breakfast is almost ready!" she adds, the original intent of her interruption.

Roy and Maes stare at her - then at each other - before Maes throws back his head in laughter.

"I am  _ not _ squishing your other dad, honey," Maes wheezes, "I'm keeping him nice and warm, see?" He demonstrates with a much gentler version of his previous bear-hug, enveloping Roy into his warmth. Roy himself merely smiles with bemusement, and enjoys the attention.

Elicia sticks out her tongue in disgust, at both her father's blatant affections and complete disregard for her concerns. "Then put another blanket on him! If you squish my baby sister I won't  _ ever _ forgive you, Daddy!"

Maes laughs again, but relents this time, releasing Roy and sitting up from their bed. "Alright, alright, honey- I'm sorry. Tell Mommy I'll be up in a minute. Does she need any help?"

"Nope! You burn things!" Elicia exclaims, hilariously irreverent, and she turns and darts back into the hallway, haphazardly closing the door behind her.

Maes rolls his eyes - "No respect, even from my own offspring," he mutters under his breath - as he rolls himself up and out of bed, and makes his way towards the dresser to prepare for the day.

He stops midway to circle around to Roy's side and give him another quick peck on the forehead. "You heard the little lady - time to get up. We've got that thing to get to, after all."

"Of course, " Roy sighs despondently, wishing he could spend another hour or so basking in the heat of Maes' body and bedsheets instead. But the day must begin eventually, and he follows Maes' example and rolls himself in the direction of the bathroom to freshen up.

\---

After a quick shower, a change of clothes, and a delicious breakfast courtesy of Gracia's fine cooking, Roy returns to the bathroom to brush his teeth and apply the rest of his usual toiletries in preparation for the outing this afternoon.

He was looking forward to it - it's a clear, sunny day of the weekend, and so, members of his and Maes' former squadrons have planned a get-together on the outskirts of Central, in a park popular for such gatherings, per Havoc's recommendation. ("It's perfect for families," he'd said. "Or at least mine - my folks n' I went there all the time.")

It's far from the first time they've held such gatherings together since he and Maes retired, and it certainly won't be the last - they're opportunities for their still-military-bound colleagues to unwind from their stresses, discreet exchanges of updates and information, and of course, quality time to spend with good friends.

Roy's mind wanders as he continues his routine - he wonders what bitter complaints Riza will no doubt bring up, seeing as she’s stuck helping navigate the massive power vacuum in Central as it’s officials scramble to appoint a new Führer - when a strange feeling jerks him out of his thoughts suddenly.

There is an odd, twisting sensation in his belly - the "weird feeling" he'd mentioned to Maes earlier, but it was more intense now. Not incredibly so, but certainly more noticeable. Roy quietly ignores it for now, praying it won't get any worse as he continues with the gelling and smoothing of his hair and light application of face-powder.

But, of course, minutes later his stomach is slowly churning, definitely turning nauseous now, and Roy rolls his eyes toward the ceiling and sighs again. He's not sure what's more disappointing - that Maes was right after all, or that he'll be throwing up most of Gracia's wonderful meal.

Instead, Roy decides to prepare for the inevitable - he washes the gel out of his hair and powder off his face, lifts the toilet seat, and calls into the bedroom:

"Maes? Come here a moment - it looks like I'll need your hair-lifting services after all."

"I  _ told _ you," Maes calls back.

"Just get in here."

\---

An hour or so later, Roy has recovered from his nausea enough for their little family to be well on their way to the hangout - namely, through one of Gracia's odd variety of home remedies. This time it consisted of making Roy suck on a slice of lemon, claiming that its sour, citrus-filled scents and flavors were a natural counter to nausea. Despite his reservations (and intense dislike of said flavors), the remedy worked, and his stomach has settled (for now).

That still didn't stop him from complaining about it through most of the drive.

"-Still, of all the days for it to  _ start _ ," he groans from the backseat. "I'll be spending the whole time refusing everyone's food and drinking nothing but fruit juice, I just know it."

Gracia, sitting next to him, has been comforting him with a hand rubbing his shoulder. "You should be fine, dear, it's been a while already... but if you start feeling queasy again, just stick to small things, like crackers. You know, nothing heavy on the stomach. Besides, if worse comes to worse, I brought more lemons."

Roy only groans again, rolling his eyes this time. "Everyone's already getting suspicious of me after quitting alcohol, cold turkey, without even an  _ announcement _ \- and now, nibbling on crackers and lemons for my stomach? I may as well wear a damn sign on my head."

Maes, in the driver's seat, glances back at them with a frown. "And what's so bad about that? You're gonna have to tell them  _ eventually _ , Roy, it's been a month already. If you wait any longer, well-"

Roy cuts him off, anxiety filling his tone. "You  _ know _ why I can't tell them yet, Maes, not until we know for sure- wait, what's that?"

He cuts himself off because at this point they've entered the park at Central's outskirts - a lovely, well-kept swathe of grass and trees within sight of its eastern river, dotted with tents, benches, playgrounds, and other recreational structures. But what's strange is that, in the distance, one can see a particular group of benches that's decorated with flower bouquets, bunches of balloons, and strings of ribbons, all in pastel colors of blue, pink and white. The people setting up these decorations, along with various food and drinks, are hard to make out at this distance - but they appear to be their friends and ex-coworkers, all in casual wear.

Maes makes a curious "Huh," sound at this, and makes another, more worried sound as they pull into a nearby parking space and see more clearly that the distant human figures are definitely their friends (Major Armstrong's massive frame is unmistakable at any distance).

"It's a party now? What's the occasion?" Roy asks out loud. "It's not a holiday today, is it?"

"Not that I know of," Gracia says. "The colors look like something for Children's Day... but that was a month ago, wasn't it?"

Maes glances nervously between his partners and the apparent celebration, chewing his lower lip. "Uh- yeah, yeah, pretty sure. I, uh- I dunno, hun."

In the meantime, Elicia, who had been spending most of the drive quietly busying herself with her favorite doll's hair and dresses in the passenger seat, has tossed it aside in favor of bouncing in her seat at the mention of a party. "Party! A party!" she cries, clapping her hands. "I wanna go! I wanna go! Can I go to the party please, mommydaddy?"

Maes shushes her with promises of yes, she will be going, right now in fact, as he carefully unclips her seatbelt and helps her out of the car as everyone else steps out.

As the family approaches the party area, sunlight glints off a pair of large glasses on the distant face of Kain Fuery, and when he notices them, he waves a greeting with an exuberant wave of his arm. Then he turns to the others and distantly calls, "Hey! Looks like the guests of honor finally arrived!"

The others turn to him, then to Roy and the Hughes', and break out into excited waves, hellos, and even a little applause. Fuery, meanwhile, jogs down the small slope between them to take Roy's hand in an enthusiastic handshake, giving him a beaming smile. "Ah - salutations  _ and _ congratulations, sir! We're all very happy for you and the good news!" he exclaims.

Roy hardly has time to wonder at all this strangeness going on, for as soon as he opens his mouth to speak, he finds that he can hardly get a word in edgewise as his other former squad-mates approach him with the same boisterous congratulations.

Havoc (who Roy briefly realizes he might need to either put distance from, or ask him to put out his cigarettes around him for his health), runs up and claps a hand to his shoulder, all but shouting, "Mustang! You old so-and-so, I didn't think you had it in ya! Congrats, man!"

Breda flashes a cheeky grin from behind Havoc's shoulder. "Good luck with the new additions," he chuckles. "You'll need it."

Meanwhile Falman approaches from behind, somewhat cautiously, as he often is in social situations. But he seems nonetheless chipper as he claps quietly, saying, "Wonderful news, Colonel, congratulations." The addressing of Roy's military title was a habit he still had to break.

And bringing up the very rear was Riza, a bit hampered by her dog, Black Hayate, attempting to entrap her legs with his leash in his excitement. But she still offers a warm smile in his direction as she makes her way down the slope.

Maes' friends, consisting of Major Armstrong, Maria, Denny, and Sheska, also swarm him and Gracia with the same amount of bewildering praise and applause, and the same greetings of "congratulations" and "great news" (and Armstrong nearly crushing Maes' bones with one of his hugs, again).

All the while, little Elicia claps her hands in a mimic of Falman and intensifies her bouncing, singing "congratulations" right along with everyone else.

Between Roy's sputtering and Maes' breathlessness, Gracia was the one to finally get in the burning question - she spreads her hands, gestures in a shushing motion, and raises her voice in a tone not unlike one she'd have used in her days as a librarian.

"Hey- excuse me, everyone- what's all this about?"

At that, everyone quiets, their greetings devolving into confused noises and stares. For a moment, an awkward silence falls, but its quickly broken by a nervous, mousey Sheska. "Well, you know- you said you were, um- expecting again, with Mr. Mustang, sir," she says, addressing Maes. "At least, you told me over the phone that time. You seemed so excited, so I thought it was only fair to-"

"-Y-you what?!" Roy blurts out.

"Uh, yeah," Denny Brosh chimes in, "she told me when we were drinking last weekend, so of course, I told Maria-"

"-And since they knew, it seemed only fair to tell the Major," Maria continues;

Armstrong, smiling merrily through his mustache despite the confusion in his eyes, says "-And I was so moved by the blessed news, I simply  _ had _ to tell your former squadron, Mustang sir. They seemed to know already, informing me of your behavior as of late;"

And Havoc, quirking his mouth around his cigarette, finishes with a shrug. "-So we decided to turn this hangout into an early baby shower for you guys to save you the trouble. I  _ did _ say this place was great for families, after all."

If Roy could see himself in these moments, he'd be amused at how quickly the color drained from his face, then returned tenfold and turned his face and neck a bright scarlet color. By the time Havoc finishes his last sentence, he's covering his face with both hands and wishing he had his ignition gloves on hand in order to obliterate his own existence - but of course, that wouldn't be fair to his unborn child, so perhaps a better target would be his damnably excitable, loose-lipped husband.

He loosens his grip on his own face to better see said husband, who is now also sporting a deeply flushed complexion, scrubbing at his neck and avoiding eye contact with everyone except Roy himself - a mistake.

As soon as they lock eyes, Roy's shame boils over into an unbridled rage, and he brings down his hands, clenches them into fists, and proceeds to wave them erratically while shouting obscenities at Maes.

"Goddammit Maes, you goddamn big-mouthed  _ idiot _ ! I  _ told _ you not to say anything! Now everyone knows and we have all this  _ bullshit _ when we don't even know if it'll even-!"

Maes spreads his hands in surrender and shrinks away from his incensed partner, spluttering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Okay okay, I got excited and let it slip to Sheska, and maybe one or two others, but I  _ swear _ that's all-"

Quickly, Gracia gets between them to play peacemaker, attempting to seize Roy by the shoulders and saying "Roy, stop, please, it's alright-"

Thankfully, the mood passes. As soon as she lays hands upon Roy, a pallor passes over his face, and he grows pale again - then he keels over and starts dry heaving, his nausea returning with a vengeance.

The others can only look on with equal parts worry and amusement as the Hughes family tends to their newest and oddest member(s) - Gracia supporting Roy as he wobbles on his feet, Maes offering apologetic hugs and forehead-kisses, and Elicia looking upon the whole scene with the most amusing look of confusion a four-year-old could wear.

Riza, having finally given up on making Hayate stop squirming and barking at all the excitement, rolls her eyes and sighs deeply behind Havoc and the others.

"I  _ told _ you this was a bad idea," she grumbles.

\---

But the party wasn't a bad idea after all - after the initial misunderstanding, Roy calmed down from his nausea and somewhat-violent mood swing, and everyone was readily understanding, considering his condition. The party was enjoyably smooth afterwards.

True to his fears, Roy did end up consuming mostly crackers and more lemon slices, broken up by the occasions he was brave (and hungry) enough to eat more. But he did avoid actually-heaving, so it was a victory overall.

Besides refreshments, their friends also brought gifts, ranging from congratulatory cards to supplies for the new family member - mostly diapers and cleaning supplies, safe options and arguably, the most useful. No clothes except for a pair of tiny, white-ribboned shoes from Armstrong - purchased from a clothier who has provided high-quality infant clothing to the Armstrong family for generations, he claimed - and as Roy held the tiny articles in his hands, he found himself fighting an onrush of tears at the idea of the tiny person who would be filling them someday soon; then proceeded to angrily deny the redness in his eyes, curse at his hormones, then at Maes for cooing over him and attempting to calm him with more hugs and kisses.

As evening approaches and the small party winds down, Roy finds himself pretty much spent on the social side of things. After making this known, his friends and partners courteously allow him some needed time alone, which he spends sitting at a bench slightly apart from the others, pecking at leftover food scraps, as his stomach's settled again.

"Roy," the voice of Riza says softly as she approaches, and he turns to her with a smile. Close friends since teenhood, he's never minded her presence even when his energies were spent, and he nods for her to sit beside him.

"I tied up Hayate by the tent poles," she says as she settles in. "Looks like Elicia finally tired him out." She jerks her chin towards the black-and-white-furred dog flopped on the grass near the pole he was tied to.

"And likewise for her," Roy adds with a chuckle, nodding towards a bench nearby, where a content Gracia gently rocks her daughter's exhausted form in her lap.

Riza smiles warmly at the scene. "Aw- so sweet. Hard to believe that'll be you too, months from now."

Her smile takes on a mischievous slant as she turns it back on Roy, looking at him from the corners of her eyes. "Or maybe not. You seem to have that 'motherly glow' already."

Roy scoffs loudly. "Oh, don't  _ you _ start too- I get enough of that crap from Maes as it is. Besides, that's a myth anyway - your skin might change color in some areas, but it doesn't  _ glow _ ."

Riza doesn't laugh much, not outwardly - but you can see it in her eyes, clear as day, if you know what to look for. Which Roy does - and it always annoys him.

"Probably, yeah," she replies. "But you do seem happier."

"I am," Roy says, pursing his lips, then bothering the bottom one with his teeth for a moment. "And, honestly... kind of terrified?"

He phrases it like an unsure question to take the edge off - he isn't sure why, he should know by know that Riza can always see through his bluffs, and always has over the years. And it's been equal parts annoying and comforting, because on the one hand, nothing gets past her, but on the other, there is no one better than her to divulge one's honest insecurities. Especially ones that he hasn't admitted to any of his other friends at this party.

So Roy can only blame his own niggling demons of anxiety for trying to mask this admission at the last moment.

Familiarly, and thankfully, Riza just looks at him, nodding. "That's understandable," she says matter-of-factly.

"I mean, I'm sure it is," Roy stammers, trying to spill himself freely in her understanding presence. "It's a lot to- you know- it's just so  _ much _ . Between the pregnancy and the birth, that'll be hard enough, and not just physically. And then with everything afterwards- I mean, it's a whole  _ person _ , Riza-

He takes a breath in response to a pleading look in Riza's eyes, one she often uses to silently tell him, _ Please, sir, try to breathe. _

A little more centered, he continues. "I just- I've never done this before. And... to be honest, I never thought I  _ would _ . I've never really thought of myself as a parent before. I mean- let's be honest, I haven't made the best decisions with children lately..."

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling his nervous heart pounding in his chest. But Riza only nods slowly, considering him and his words.

"True enough," she says finally. "But things were different then- and those boys were an exceptional case, one that wasn't always in your control. In the end, I think they made their own decisions... I wish you wouldn't blame yourself so much for them."

Roy only sighs despondently. It's something he's heard before, from multiple people - a nice reminder, but it seemed there would always be a part of him that would blame himself for what happened to the Elric brothers (among many, many other things).

Riza meets his eyes. "Honestly, I think you'll be just fine, Roy. You've changed. You might not have noticed it, but I have."

Roy suppresses the temptation to laugh at that, since she's being sincere. "Really. How?"

Riza cocks her head slightly, searches the surrounding grass for words. "You are... kinder," she says. "More gentle, more selfless. Which only makes sense, I suppose - in giving up your ambition, you let go of some of your selfishness, in a way."

She meets his eyes again. "But I think the fact that you even  _ agreed _ to this, and decided to see it through, is what really shows who you are now. The Roy that I knew only a few years ago would never do this."

At this point Roy is flushing nearly to his neck again, staring down into his lap and trying vainly to do something with his hands. "You- You flatter me too much, Lieutenant."

He can practically hear the cheeky smile in her voice. "I only speak the truth, sir."

Roy scratches idly at his neck before finally deigning to look at her again. And she is smiling, but its less cheeky than he imagined. It's equal parts sincerity and amusement, and she brings it closer as she moves to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Even if you mess up, you have not one, but  _ two _ partners by your side - loving, protective, and already experienced in child-rearing. Between the three of you, the baby will want for nothing."

And now she's all sincerity, almost beaming at him. She leans further and offers him her other arm in a rare gesture, coming from her - a hug. Which Roy welcomes, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and welcoming her warmth against his. Riza isn't the sort of person to give physical affection very often, if at all, so when she does it's for something she deeply, deeply cares about.

He has to fight back an urge to cry, again - and again blames it on his rampant hormones, damn them.

"I'm proud of you," she says softly, pulling away and meeting his eyes. "After losing so much, starting from nothing- and now, you have a family."

Roy blinks away the wetness from his eyes, wipes them with one hand. "Well, so do you- I mean, you've come far as well, Riza."

And she has - she was, like him, a fellow orphan of Amestris’ constant warring. However, she was courageous enough to forge a new name for herself and her future, distancing herself from what little family she had left when they ultimately proved to be cold and uncaring. In some ways, she is far braver than him - so Roy never minces his words about her.

She brushes at her bangs with one hand, slightly flustered. "I guess so- I'm happy too, work troubles notwithstanding. I do have my work cut out for me, after everything's that's happened."

"You have support too," Roy assures her. "And mine as well, even if I can't be there leading the charge anymore. You'll be fine - both of us will."

"Here's hoping," Riza says, smiling warmly.

\---

Months pass, and the blooming Spring mellows out into a lazy Summer around Central. The flowers fade, the grass dries, and Roy no longer complains of nausea - now he gripes about his weight as he slowly grows rounder.

His fairly-toned physique from years of military training had already started smoothing out since his retirement, but the pregnancy only hastens this process - at this point, he's outgrown most of his dress pants and shirts and has surrendered himself to wearing mostly loose shirts and casual short pants. Maes and Gracia have no qualms with these new developments.

Despite his anxieties, Roy's progress is smooth, according to Gracia, their books on the subject, and the specialist he's hired for this occasion - they came with high marks after overseeing his chest surgery and successfully keeping it under wraps. And if all goes well, they'll be overseeing his delivery soon.

One morning is particularly warm, and Roy trudges into the kitchen, already tired and sweating - it is entirely the worst time of year to be hormonal and gaining weight. As he opens the fridge to search its contents, he’s tempted to stay there just to bask in its cool air for a minute longer - and to look for something cold and sweet to sate his hunger.

“If you’re looking for more cookie dough, don’t bother,” Gracia’s voice pipes up from across the room, startling him slightly. “I’m not making any more.”

Roy plays off his flinching by smoothing his hair and forcing a chuckle. “Ah- I was  _ not  _ doing that, actually, just cooling myself off a bit,” he says, which was partly true, so it definitely wasn’t a lie. “But, uh- no cookies today, Gracia? Why?”

Gracia, making breakfast at the kitchen stove as usual, rolls her eyes at him. “Because a certain  _ someone  _ nibbled at the dough so much throughout the day that when I finally baked them, at least a third of it was already gone. And even after the cookies were done,  _ someone  _ ate so much of them there wasn’t nearly enough to last everyone for the month. Elicia was looking forward to having dessert every night instead of, you know- only two or three.”

Roy stares, gaping dumbly at her for a moment - then snaps his mouth shut into a frown, huffing softly. “Well- that wasn’t  _ entirely  _ my fault. If it weren’t for the baby giving me these damn cravings-”

“You’ve had a sweet tooth for as long as I can remember, Roy, don’t blame the baby for that,” Gracia tuts at him. “You’re just using them as an excuse to give up your self-control.”

“I- Well- Ugh. Fine, I’m sorry,” Roy relents, ears burning with shame at this point. Not for the first or last time, he wonders why he insists on surrounding himself with people who had a penchant for seeing through his bullshit.

Gracia laughs brightly, finishing off the last of her cooking and turning off the stove. “Don’t apologize to me,” she says smugly, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. “Apologize to your future self when you’re spending twelve hours in labor to deliver our child.”

Roy’s mouth drops open. “Twelve  _ hours _ ?”

“That’s what happened to one of my old coworkers,” Gracia says, nodding grimly. “Too much ice cream, too small in the hips. They had to open her up to deliver her son - and no surprise, he turned in at nearly eleven pounds at birth. And his mother never did lose all the weight she gained.”

Roy swallows nervously, feeling a chill up his spine - then remembers he’s still standing in front of the open fridge. Feeling plenty cold enough, he carefully closes its doors. “That’s, uh- that’s rough.”

“Oh, that’s not even the worst of it,” Gracia chuckles, and she straightens and turns to pour herself some coffee from the pot on the stove. “I’ve heard so many horror stories, you wouldn’t believe it - bearing children is very difficult. A lot can go wrong, and badly.”

“So I’ve heard,” Roy mutters, recounting articles he’s glanced over in the newspapers, about mothers losing their lives in the effort to bear their children; babies born with terrible illnesses or deformities that claim their lives before they’ve even lived a year, or leave them crippled for a lifetime; countless tragedies that leave orphans, widowers, and other such suffering in their wake. To say he was anxious about his own child’s birth was an understatement.

He glances nervously at the small curve of his stomach as he moves to sit at the kitchen table, sighs harshly and runs a hand through his hair again.

Gracia hums sadly across the way, and after an awkward silence, she joins him at the table while setting down their plates of breakfast. Roy looks at it, but does not feel hungry anymore.

“I wish I could say it gets easier,” Gracia says, still crestfallen in her tone. “But then you have a newborn on your hands - totally helpless, completely dependent on you. Your whole schedule revolves around them, which usually means you’re alternating between sleeping or staying awake for two hours at a time. And that lasts for a year, at least.”

She smiles a little, plucking herself up. “But then they start getting a personality - it’s so fun, watching that develop. And then they’re walking and talking - of course, that’s the toddler years. You’ve seen some of that already.” She chuckles at this last part.

“I do,” Roy says tiredly, now recalling the evenings he’d spent babysitting a smaller, more hyperactive Elicia in the years before he married Maes. In his misguided, pining state, he probably thought he could win favor by looking after his daughter - and this partly worked, as it led to a closer friendship with Gracia, tearing down the awkward walls between them.

He bows his head and sighs again. “Ah, Gracey- if I didn’t know better, I'd wonder if all this was even  _ worth  _ it."

Gracia chuckles again. "Well, you  _ are  _ bringing a whole human being into the world. Then raising them as your own, giving them the best possible start towards their future- Of course there's going to be prices to pay for that sort of thing."

When he looks up, she’s twirling her fork at him, wearing a wry smile. "Didn't you Alchemists have a rule about that? ‘Equivalent exchange,’ right?"

She lowers the fork to rest her chin on her knuckles. "It's kinda like that - this is our version of Alchemy, in a way."

Roy stares at her for a long moment - then crumples into a long and loud fit of laughter.

"Ah, Gracey," he says as he comes down from it. "You're so much better than any Alchemist."

Gracia laughs too, at that - then suddenly leans over to peck him on his cheek. "So are you, dear."

The affection catches Roy off-guard, a bit, and he spends a few moments blinking dumbly. He opens and closes his mouth to retort, but when nothing comes to him, he grumbles, and busies himself with poking at his breakfast. "Hmph."

\---

Roy still suffers the occasional mood swings as he progresses, which is normal, according to Gracia and the doctor.

But what isn't normal is how deeply, deeply low Roy's mood becomes at times - when his movements become sluggish, his appetite diminishes, and he no longer finds joy or laughter in much of anything. At his absolute worst, he spends one morning unable to get out of bed at all - and both his partners know this can't entirely be blamed on the pregnancy.

"Dear, please," Gracia says softly, kneeling by Roy's bedside, gently brushing his mussed hair out of his eyes. His plate of breakfast sits on the nearby nightstand, untouched. "You need to eat, now more than ever."

"I know," Roy mutters, but he doesn't move, still curled within his bedsheets with his face half-buried into his pillow. His eyes are red and tired from too little sleep and too many tears.

"At least a few bites, or a nibble," Maes murmurs at his other side, his form curled around Roy's own, hugging him from the back, his face nuzzling his husband's ear. "You need it. So does the baby."

"I know," Roy repeats, but again he makes no move to obey them.

"Darling," Maes kisses into his hair, "Please. Try."

Roy squeezes his eyes shut, and his breath hitches, but he says nothing and still doesn't move.

Gracia keeps gently stroking his cheek. "At least say something," she pleads. "Tell us what's wrong. We're here, we'll listen."

Roy's breathing becomes erratic for a few moments, as if pushing back a quiet sob. But eventually he settles and opens his eyes, seeming to get up the nerve to speak his mind.

He chokes out, "What... did I do... to deserve this?"

"Deserve what?" Maes asks.

"All of this," Roy says, voice watery. "You, and Elicia, and the baby- how..." He swallows, and clears his throat. "...How can I bring life into this world when I've brought nothing but death?"

Gracia and Maes exchange glances, understanding. Gracia less so, but she  _ is _ very familiar with the look of helplessness that again crosses her husband's features, the look that Maes gives when he remembers that Roy went to Ishval and he did not, and he will always, always be sorry about it. That he couldn't be there to stand by Roy's side, to share in its horrors, its suffering, and all he could do ever afterwards was try to put him back together with kind words, soft smiles, slices of Gracia's homemade pies.

It wasn't enough - never enough - but it was  _ something _ , and it helped.

So again, Maes blinks back his tears, then adjusts himself so he can wrap his arms around Roy's shoulders and take his hands in his own, gently intertwining their fingers and bringing them down to touch the small dome of Roy's belly.

"You saved my life, darling. Multiple times. That's not nothing," he says, kissing into the crook of Roy's neck. "You've saved all of us - our friends, our family, even the whole nation."

Roy squeezes his eyes closed again. "But, Edward-"

"That wasn't your fault, dear," Gracia interrupts, her hand joining Maes' and Roy's. "Whatever happened down there, that was  _ his _ battle, not yours. He's strong - wherever he is, I'm sure he's doing just fine."

"Yeah," Maes agrees. "We have to believe that... He'd hate for us to worry over him anyway. You know him," he adds, forcing a chuckle.

Roy sighs, but he nestles a little within Maes' hold. "Mm. I wish I could... Believe, that is. In anything."

"...What about our child?" Maes asks, his hand at Roy's stomach rubbing gently. "You can believe in them. They'll be here soon, after all."

Roy's eyes lose focus, and he exhales again. "Ah, even then- I'm still... scared they might not."

Gracia starts, her face pinching with worry. "Dear, please, don't even think of it. You're doing so well, even more than the doctor predicted- please, don't risk it all by worrying needlessly. Don't-"

She takes a breath, bows her head slightly. "Don't be like me."

Maes makes a strained sound. "Honey-"

"It's fine." Gracia flashes a small smile in Maes' direction, then turns it toward Roy, who still stares out at nothing in particular.

"Roy," she says. "You remember before I had Elicia, don't you?"

"Mm." Roy makes a noncommittal noise. He must remember those times, but he makes no effort to make it obvious, so Gracia sighs and decides to remind him.

"We miscarried so much," she continues, exchanging soft glances with Maes. "The doctors never could find out what was wrong with me. It was awful - and neither of us breathed a word to anyone, we were so ashamed. At least, I was."

She squeezes Roy's hand in her own. "We only told you after you found me crying after dinner, that day. I thought I was broken, and worthless, and all these terrible things - and that only made it worse. I was my own self-fulfilling prophecy."

She bows her head and leans in, planting a kiss on Roy's knuckles, near his stomach. When she looks up again, his eyes are looking intently at her, soft with pain and sympathy. He does remember.

"Without you and Maes, Elicia wouldn't even  _ be _ here," Gracia says. "And she'll always be my little miracle, but I can't put myself through that again. You'll never know how truly, truly grateful I am for you doing this for us, Roy. For our family."

When she meets Roy's eyes again, they're wet with tears on the verge of spilling. This time she leans over to kiss his cheek, and wipes away the wetness with her thumb.

"I'm so proud of you, darling," Maes says behind him. "All of us are. Even Elicia - she's so ready to be a big sister. It's kind of funny, actually - she acts like she'll be ten years older instead of four."

"God, she does," Gracia says, chuckling softly. "All she talks about lately is all the toys and clothes she's going to share with her 'little sister,' and all the food she's going to make for her. She keeps asking me to show her how to cook dinner now - and she can't even reach the stovetop without standing on a chair."

Maes snorts with laughter. "God, that's adorable - how is she doing by the way, cooking-wise?"

Gracia levels a knowing smirk at him. "Well, she's a step up from you, Mister Water-Burner."

"Oh, ouch-  _ ouch _ . You're so cruel, honey," Maes whines, feigning hurt.

Gracia laughs harder now, shaking her head. "Cruel? I've been trying to show you how to cook for  _ years _ , but when you're not making jokes out of everything, you're turning it into something not even dogs would eat. It's pretty sad when a toddler's a better student than you."

Maes laughs, hard, dropping his forehead against Roy's back until he composes himself. "Oh Gracey, you're so  _ mean _ ," he drawls out. "That's it, I'm only sleeping with Roy from now on. He wouldn't make hurtful jokes about his poor husband's cooking skills. Isn't that right, darling?"

Roy doesn't appear to respond for a moment - but listening carefully, one can hear erratic breaths and a slight shifting of fabric, and his shoulders and chest tremble within the blankets and Maes' arms. But there are no tears - Roy is quietly snorting into his pillow and suppressing soft laughter.

"Hey- are you  _ laughing _ ?" Maes exclaims. Roy tenses within his grip, now squeezing his eyes to suppress a grin threatening to break out on his face.

"You're laughing, aren't you. I can't believe this. Both my wife and husband, laughing at my expense," Maes says, withering into laughter. Gracia does the same, and Roy's resolve crumbles, and it isn't long before all three of them have devolved into a shared laughing fit.

The mood was lighter, and it was warmly welcomed.

And later on, after more lighthearted conversation and gentle encouragement, Roy's depression lightened to the point he could sit up and eat a slice of toast and spoonfuls of porridge without much issue. He still stayed in bed most of the day, and only ate a bit more as it went on, but by the evening his body's needs began to outweigh his lack of appetite and he ate ravenously of his dinner, and he could sleep soundly through most of the night.

He improved slowly - at least, his mood didn't often dip into such a low point after that, but when it did, Maes and Gracia were once again there to hold him and remind him how much he was loved, and loved others in turn.

...Or to make more jokes at Maes' expense. Those helped too.

\---

Fall is here; the greens and yellows of Summer have faded into shades of red, gold and brown, the leaves of trees darken and cover the ground, and the air grows colder.

Roy's moods have improved, along with his health, and now his child's movements can be felt within him. At first, it was strange and exciting - there are few words he can find to express how simultaneously incredible and incredibly  _ weird _ it is to feel a tiny person moving around inside him.

By now, the novelty has worn off - Roy could swear that the child shifts only in ways to spite him, pressing up into his lungs when he's trying to eat, or down onto his bladder when he lays down for the night, and he ends up struggling against his own unwieldy body to get up and use the bathroom for the umpteenth time. Or, usually, they just kick him constantly. At this point he's welcomed Maes' attempts to sing lullabies to their unborn child to soothe them. It actually seems to work, sometimes.

Between all this, even more egregious weight issues, and his ever-rounder appearance, no one blames him for his complaining now. Maes and Gracia offer as much comfort as they can, like taking turns offering him massages every evening, especially for his sore feet.

At least one positive is that the colder weather means he can sequester himself in large, billowing sweaters and pants, offering much in comfort and hiding his un-flattering figure.

Elicia, however, delights in these developments, as it proves that the reality of her becoming a big sister is drawing ever closer. She often puts her hands to Roy's stomach to feel its movements, and keeps asking him and everyone else when the baby will arrive.

One morning, Gracia, after making some calculations, says the delivery should occur right in the middle of winter - "Right around the Winter Solstice, actually," she says, jabbing her pen at the day marked on the kitchen's calendar. "Could even be the day of-  _ that'll _ be interesting," she chuckles.

Maes scratches at his chin. "Well- shit. We'll be with your folks all week to celebrate... We really should have planned this better, hun," he says, directing this last statement at Roy.

Roy, seated at a nearby table with his chin balanced on one hand, rolls his eyes at his husband. "Don't look at me-  _ You're _ the one who decided knocking me up in Spring instead of Winter was a good idea. It's usually the other way around, you know."

Maes turns several shades of scarlet at this and starts spluttering. "I- Well- Y-you  _ agreed _ to it!"

"I did," Roy sighs long-sufferingly, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair to ease his sore back a little.

Gracia giggles at the two of them. "Oh well," she says. "It's fine, really. I'd rather it happen with more people around anyway. Feels safer."

"True, but- what're we gonna do for the kid's birthdays?" Maes wonders aloud. "They're going to live the rest of their life being forgotten. I had a coworker like that, y'know- poor girl was born on Couples' Day, so people either didn't believe her, or treated all the cheap chocolates as her birthday presents. Terrible."

"Yes, the poor thing," Gracia says, shaking her head. "But I think this is different - city-folk don't really celebrate the Solstices anymore, so maybe they'll end up getting birthday presents from their city friends,  _ and _ Yule presents from the family."

Maes rolls his eyes. "So they'll be spoiled rotten instead. Great."

"I don't see anything wrong with that," Roy says, grinning.

"You be quiet," Maes tuts at him. "I thought you were an  _ orphan _ , you hypocrite. Don't you want our child to  _ appreciate _ things?"

"Of course I do," Roy says, patting his stomach with an air of pride. "They're going to  _ appreciate _ getting lots of money and free things every year."

Maes sighs, shaking his head. "Terrible. Absolutely terrible."

Gracia just laughs harder.

\---

Weeks later, and it is only a few days before the Winter Solstice - or Yule Time, as some people still call it, like Gracia’s family.

Roy is due any day now - and at this point he's more or less numb to the constant dysphoria, anxiety, and dozens of other unpleasant symptoms. He is very heavy, very grumpy, and just wants his child to be born so he can finally hold them in his arms and be done with this.

The family does their best to make him comfortable in these final days - which now includes Gracia's kind-hearted parents and their siblings, as they are now rooming in their family home for the holiday.

The house isn't massive, or terribly luxurious, but true to Gracia's family, it is the very picture of coziness: old rugs and paintings adorn the walls and floors, wood and earthen furniture throughout, and large, worn sofas with plenty of throw pillows and blankets.

It’s a proper abode for generations of a country-born family staying true to its roots, constructed by a patriarch of Gracia's forefathers. This is most evident in the Yule decorations that now adorn everything - the front of the house wears wreathes of pine needles and sprigs of holly on its doorways, tied together with ribbons of red, green and gold. Within the house proper are various bells, knick-knacks and decorations on the walls and furniture, wicker baskets filled with candies in the kitchen, and all sorts of pleasantly-scented candles throughout.

Everything is concentrated in the main parlor, where a small evergreen tree stands proudly in its corner, covered in the highest concentration of these decorations. More baubles, ribbons and bells; dolls and figurines made of fabric and clay; preserved pinecones, berries and flowers; garlands of tinsel and colored beads. And it's all topped off with a hand-worked, golden metal star at its tip, allegedly made by a grand-relative skilled in metalworking. It’s construction is somewhat rough, even at a glance, and makes the part of Roy that was still a haughty State Alchemist wonder why the family didn’t hire one to make the star with a much more efficient metal transmutation - the rest of him chastises himself for being so shallow. He is deeply privileged to now be a part of such a family, rich in its history and heirlooms.

Beneath the tree's branches and surrounding the large pot holding its trunk, is a pile of wrapped presents, glimmering with shiny colored paper and bows. It captures the fascination of child and grown-up alike - mostly the children. Some of the more excitable ones, like Elicia, need to be kept under close watch to ensure they don't open them ahead of time. Roy feels grateful that his child is not yet among them.

And yet, for Roy, this place inspires a strange mix of both homeliness and alienation in him - the first and last time he was here was over four years ago, on the Solstice that followed Maes and Gracia's wedding.

It was a bittersweet occasion for him, marked with equal amounts of happiness and heartache because of still-buried feelings for Maes. In the presence of his friend's family, and that of his new wife, he felt like an intruder with no business being there; his attempts at socializing were cold and aloof when he wasn't drowning his feelings with rum and hard nog. Between his awkwardness and the chaos of the past few years, he'd politely declined further invitations back here.

But things are different now.  _ He _ is different - it's just as Riza said all those months ago. Roy feels more relaxed, less caged within his own defensive walls, and has been having an easier time opening up to everyone - and in turn, others open up more to him. Of course, it helps that his partnership to Maes and Gracia now makes him a more proper member of the family, but even without that difference, the overwhelmingly warm vibes here suggests they would have welcomed him just the same, even all those years ago.

(Being  _ very _ heavy with child also helps - he's too exhausted to put up many walls to begin with, gets plenty of sympathy and attention from just about everyone, and can't retreat back into a bottle even if he wanted to.)

Right now, sitting with Gracia's mother and father in the parlor, wrapped in conversation, he is the very picture of comfort: wearing the loosest sweatpants and the biggest, puffiest, Yule-colored sweater Gracia could find for him, covered in large throw blankets, and sipping from a mug of warm chocolate milk in his hands.

His only source of discomfort is of course, his unborn child, who still shifts constantly - there's also an occasional, somewhat-painful pressure inside him that comes and goes, but Gracia says these 'fake' contractions are common at this stage, so he does his best to ignore it.

Sebastian, Gracia's father, leans from the sofa with his elbows on his knees, recounting tales from his past as a war journalist, when times were simpler, and war was as well. His talk of the old-fashioned photography and recording equipment they used back then would be of endless fascination to Fuery. For Roy, he appreciates the wartime experiences, and can share his own to a sympathetic ear.

Gabriella, Gracia's mother with a history as a nurse, is more concerned with baby-talk: both embarrassing stories of Gracia's early childhood, and concerns about Roy's health and that of their new step-grandchild.

“-And that’s why Amestris never tried to push its borders eastward, and thank God for that,” Sebastian is saying. “We already have our hands full with the North.”

“You can say that again,” Roy groans, recounting the almost-war with said country not long ago. It’s still a wonder that his efforts dissipated the conflict, even if it’s merely boiled down into a cold war now. “Anyway,” he continues, not wanting to dwell on the subject, “This eastern desert - what’s beyond it?”

“Eastern countries, and then the ocean, I presume,” Sebastian replies, idly scratching his beard. “They say Xing is over there too, but who knows, no one’s heard from them in decades. Probably for good reason, knowing us.”

“True,” Roy hums sadly.

“It had a name too, that desert,” Seb continues, searching the ceiling for a memory. “And a  _ weird  _ one - something like... Silk-sees? Serk-sees? Or was it more of a "z" sound..."

Gabriella interrupts him, one of many times already. "We get it dear, the name was weird. Say, Roy, have you all picked out a name for the baby yet?"

Roy, slightly awkward but becoming familiar with these rapid changes in subject, stutters in response. "Ah- we do, actually-"

"C'mon Gabby, what d'you take us for?" Maes cuts him off, balking. "Of  _ course _ we've got names picked out. If it's a boy, Elias. If it's a girl, Eleanor. Easy."

Gabriella laughs, shaking her bobbed hair. "Easy, huh?" she teases, "Sure it's easy, when it's more "el" names. Couldn't think of anything else?"

Maes blanches at her, sputtering again. "Hey- they're  _ nice _ names! It'll be cute when they match with Elicia! Gracey likes it too!"

Gracia was giggling softly. "C'mon Mom, it's Yule Time. Lay off the teasing a little, yeah?"

"Aw- But it's so  _ easy _ ," Gabriella says, smirking mischievously.

Sebastian, rolling his eyes at most of the exchange, turns back to Roy. "You're the one actually  _ having _ the child - did you have any names in mind, Roy?"

Roy shrugs at him, pursing his lips. "Honestly? Not really. Naming things isn't really my strong suit."

"You could've asked me," Riza suddenly pipes up, leaning above them on the sofa with her elbows on the head-cushions - she's here early on in the week to help with party preparations.

"I would have suggested some good names," she says, pouting slightly.

Roy cocks his head to look at her, giving her a stink-eye. "You named yourself after a bird of prey and your dog after a violent weather pattern. Forgive me if I don't exactly trust your particular taste in names, Lieutenant."

Riza rolls her eyes. "Fair enough."

\---

Another difference this year is the absence of Maes' family members - aside from one of his nicer cousins, none of the Hughes are here. There were a few phone calls giving well-wishes and happy-new-years a few weeks ago, but other than that, it's been radio silence from them.

It's fair to assume that this was foretold by a letter they received about a month prior - one that Maes frowned down at and said, "Hm. It's from my parents."

They had not heard from his parents, or most of his relatives, since Roy and Maes announced their retirement from the military and their romantic partnership thereafter (which didn't go into detail, but the fact that Roy had permanently moved into Maes' and Gracia's home should've been enough of a tip-off).

The letter spent the majority of that day laying on the kitchen counter, untouched - only towards the evening, after Gracia had retired to put Elicia to bed, did Maes finally open it.

Roy didn't get a chance to see its contents, but did witness Maes' expression darken considerably as he read it, and heard him mutter something about "lifestyle choices" and "unsightly partners" under his breath with intense disdain.

"Maes?" he'd asked him, out of concern, but his husband only spared him a glance before briskly turning and walking back into his office. Roy followed him, cautiously- and peered into the room soon enough to see him crumpling the letter into his fist, raising it to throw it into his trash can.

"Maes," he said again, softer this time. Maes lowered his arm, and turned to look at him fully - and Roy could more clearly see how his eyes burned with something cold and bitter.

Maes let out a long, angry breath through his nose, and a beat passed. "...You're lucky, in a way," he finally said. "You lost your parents before you got to know who they really were."

"Mm," Roy hummed, starting to understand this now.

Maes turned away, sighing again. "You never had to grow up and realize that you've been living with a pair of hypocrites all your life. Talking all the time about how much they loved you, how much they cared - but when you needed a shoulder to cry on, or an ear to listen, they pushed you away, told you to suck it up. Nothing you did was ever enough for them."

He unfurled the crumpled letter, stared at it. "I did everything they expected of me - I got good grades, I joined sports teams, I even got a girl and settled down. And I worked  _ hard _ \- I reached Major without ever even  _ touching _ an Alchemy textbook, Roy, you know how much I busted my ass for that. And you know what they said to me? When I showed them my credentials? 'Oh, that's nice, but your cousin's a lawyer and makes even more money than that. Don't you think you could do better, dear?'" He mimicked a flighty, nasally voice, probably mocking his mother.

"And now, after all this time, they send me  _ this shit- _ " And Maes slammed the letter onto his desk, violently, causing a whipping sound of paper-on-wood that made Roy flinch, but the suddenness of the act was what really made him shrink away - he rarely saw Maes so angry like this.

Maes, meanwhile, seemed to snap out of whatever rage-like stupor he was in once he realized Roy was frightened - he blinked, then started toward Roy and wrapped him up in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing Roy's hair. "I'm just- I'm so tired. The things they said about you..."

He took a breath, then drew away, giving Roy weak smile. "But it's fine. They're not coming to Yule with us anymore - and good riddance."

"They're not?" Roy wondered at him, recalling the very few times he'd seen Maes' family - who seemed like fairly well-off people of the upper middle-class, decent folk, if a bit stilted in their mannerisms. Maes never seemed comfortable around them, and he rarely spoke of them in all their time together - it seemed there'd been good reason for that.

"No, they aren't," Maes said, kissing at Roy's forehead again. "And you know what? I'm fucking  _ relieved _ . This could actually be the best Solstice I've ever had, because for once I don't have to  _ pretend _ that I'm happy around anyone."

He lowered his hands to Roy's stomach, looked at him softly. "Because I am. With both of you."

Roy had felt his eyes watering, at once heartbroken and brimming with joy for his dear husband, and he returned his affections with a long, tender kiss and embrace.

When they drew away, Maes asked him one last thing. "Roy- just do me a favor, okay?"

"Anything," Roy said.

"Keep me honest," Maes said, his expression soft, open, painfully vulnerable. "When I tell the kids I love them, make sure I mean it."

"Aw, Maes," Roy said, resting his head against Maes' chest. "Don't worry. You already do."

When Gracia heard the news later, she readily agreed with both ideas - good riddance to Hughes' family, and "Goodness' sakes, Maes, if you were any more earnest about your children, even  _ I _ couldn't stand you."

\---

The absence of Maes' family was not long missed - in their place are select members of Roy and Maes' former squadrons this year. They're a welcome presence in the house, and a great help with the preparations. Gracia's parents welcome them warmly - and are in agreement that Maes' family are better off gone, after hearing the news.

Some, like Armstrong, Maria, Fuery and Havoc, will only be here for several hours of Yule's Eve, planning to spend the holiday proper with their families; those without much of a family to go back to, like Riza, Breda and Falman, are here for the entire week; and those who are absent entirely are spending the extra time with loved ones who need it, which are Denny with his many younger siblings, and Sheska, who is staying with the Rockbells to offer her support.

Sheska even sent a letter in advance, and when an evening wound down and allowed time to spend on it, Maes reads it aloud to Gracia and Roy in the parlor:

_ A wonderful Solstice to you and your families, Mr. Hughes, Gracia, and everyone else. Special regards to Mustang and the new baby, I hope everything goes well. Miss Winry and her grandmother need all the help they can get after everything that's happened - you know, with Alphonse and that homonculus boy - I think they're all in need of a good Solstice. Rose and Paninya are here as well, and they send their regards. Miss Winry does too, and sends congratulations for the new baby to Mr. and Mrs. Hughes. _

Maes frowns a little after reading the last line. "Nothing for the man actually  _ giving _ us the baby," he mutters under his breath.

"Honey," Gracia whispers, catching his attention to shake her head at him. He looks at her, seated at his side on the couch, then looks to his other side, where Roy lays curled within his throw blankets against the armrest. He stares out at nothing, seeming to be in a low mood again, and Maes isn't sure if it's from the day wearing him out or his comment on the letter.

Maes lowers his eyes. "Sorry," he says.

Roy glances at him, then away, and just shrugs. "It's fine," he says distantly. "It's what I expected from her."

He's not talking about Sheska.

\---

Days later, and it is finally Yule's Eve. The merriment in the household only grows as Fuery, Havoc, Maria and Armstrong arrive to partake in the festivities.

True to Roy's prediction, Fuery spends most of the evening deep in conversation with Sebastian about the technical wizardry of years past; Havoc enjoys playing Big Brother with Elicia and her little cousins; Maria aids in the last of the holiday dinner preparations, to the appreciation of Gabriella and her sisters.

Armstrong, meanwhile, does what he does best - being himself, as grand and boisterously as possible.

Early on, when his loud greetings rang out through the house and his massive frame approached Roy and Maes in the living room, a look of real, genuine terror flashed across Maes' face for a moment - and within the next moment, he'd whipped out a protective arm in front of Roy.

He said quickly, "M-Major! I would ask that you, uh- refrain from your usual form of affections, seeing Roy's current condition-"

Roy attempted to protest at the same time. "Wh- for goodness' sake Maes, I'm not made of  _ glass _ -"

But both were drowned out by Armstrong's bellowing laughter. "Ah, please, no need to worry, sir! I wouldn't  _ dream _ of laying hands upon your husband in such a state. I merely wished to extend my congratulations again - and a humble offer, if you do not mind."

He extended a massive hand forward, which Roy took, surprised at the man's gentleness in his grip, for once - at the same time he asks, "An offer, Major? What kind?"

Armstrong nods, and after exchanging less-gentle handshakes with Maes, replies, "In regards to your coming child, sirs - I've heard they will arrive very shortly! If you have need, the Armstrong family midwife and her assistants are eager and ready to help at a moment’s notice! They come highly recommended, believe me-"

He starts into what will no doubt be a tirade about the many good qualities of this midwife and her team, and how they assisted in bringing multiple generations of Armstrongs into existence, but Roy hurriedly gives him a polite shushing gesture and cuts him off.

"Ah- I'm sure she is, Major but uh- we have the midwife thing covered already, don't worry."

Armstrong stuttered mid-sentence, stared in confusion. "Ah- Oh. By whom, if I may ask?"

This would be answered just later that evening.

\---

And sure enough, there is one last guest who has arrived fashionably late to the house - one that Roy has waited for anxiously.

When the doorbell rings and an all-too-familiar voice is heard across the living room, he lights up brighter than any flame could produce, and grunts his way to his feet to meet them at the door personally.

Shuffling in through the doorway, in a flurry of winter fur coats and bags, is a somewhat-portly woman of middle age, dark-haired and dark-eyed, well-dressed and made-up, with a beauty mark on one cheek. This woman is known to most as Madame Christmas, the owner of a once-prolific bar-and-brothel in East City; In reality, she is Chris Mustang, Roy’s aunt and foster mother.

She is the only living relative of his family, having survived either by miracle or her own wit; she took him in and raised him as her own, bringing him out of the orphanages and under her wing, in honor of her brother and sister-in-law; she and her girls gave him the ideal home and family to rediscover himself in the wake of losing of his parents; and they have taught him everything he knows about secrecy, subterfuge, and weaponizing one’s charms into a fine, precise point.

Her knowledge spans a grand swathe of subjects that most people would call “unsavory,” but among her clientele and employees, they are nothing less than essential. Among her skills is several years of experience in midwifery, and ensured that Roy’s mother had a safe, successful delivery on the day of his birth - she has, quite literally, known him for his whole life - so it is only appropriate for her to do the same for Roy and his own child all these years later.

In short, he would be nothing without her, so Roy he gives her the best hug he can muster, despite his large stomach getting in the way. But she squeezes back with just as much affection, even as she draws away with a sarcastic frown on her face as she looks upon him. Her first words to him are, "My goodness, Roy, you're  _ huge _ ."

Roy snorts, then breaks down into a fit of giggles. Maes and Gracia laugh their way to the doorway to also greet Chris, along with several women that are both her fellow charges, and Roy’s adoptive sisters.

They’re equally surprised and delighted at Roy’s condition. “Oh my! You all must be so excited;” “Wow, you weren’t kidding, you look ready to pop!”; “Roy dear, you should really sit down…”

“She’s right, darling,” Chris says, agreeing with the last one. “You didn’t tell me you were  _ this  _ close! Goodness, didn’t I teach you any sense? Sit down, sit down, before you throw your back out…”

Roy, still laughing, lets himself be lead away and back to the sofa. “You did, Auntie, you did- It’s just- ah, it’s been too long. I missed you.”

And he means it - Chris and the girls were a constant well of support for him until recently, as when the string of serial killings and conspiracies started up a few years ago, Roy was quick to call her up and advise her to leave the country for their safety. Chris begrudgingly obeyed, moving out westward and re-establishing herself there as best she could. Now that things are relatively settled (finally) and changing for the better, she’s recently moved back to Amestris - just in time to spend their first, proper Solstice together.

“Hmph! Then you could have called or written me more often, you sap,” Chris retorts, but there’s rarely any bite to her banter.

“Calls don’t go out to Creta,” Roy says as he settles back into the sofa. “And I wrote you as often as I could, Auntie. It was, ah- pretty crazy for a while there. I’m sorry I didn’t write more.”

“I’ll say,” Chris says, rolling her eyes. “The Cretan newspapers were having field days with it. I almost started getting worried about you - then I heard you blew up the Führer.”

Roy laughs again. “I did, I did. That was… ah, man. There’s so much to tell you, Auntie.”

Chris smiles at him - a real, genuine smile - and takes his hand, gently, something she hasn’t done in a long time.

“Well, I’m here now, darling. Tell me all about it.”

\---

And talk they did, for many hours - between introductions to Gracia’s family and Roy and Maes’ squadron members, the details of the past few years’ adventures, and plenty of embarrassing stories of Roy’s childhood, there was no shortage of conversation. 

Soon enough, it is near-midnight - Armstrong, Fuery, Havoc and Maria bid their farewells and left long ago, the children have been put to bed, and most of Gracia’s family have retired for the night as well. Only Roy’s little family (minus Elicia) is still awake, bleary and yawning as they curl up together on the parlor sofa, still exchanging stories.

Chris, slightly buzzed from the wine, is still deep into the ‘embarrassing stories of Roy’s past’ part of their conversations. “I always knew you’d tie the knot with Maes someday, always knew,” she’s saying, side-hugging her adopted son and admiring the silver ring on his and Maes’ fingers. “It was just a matter of time - for you to get up your nerve, of course.”

“Oh,  _ c’mon _ ,” Roy whines, suppressing a yawn at the same time. “I wasn’t nearly that bad. And you know there were other reasons I was hesitant.”

“I know, darling- but it’s still funny,” Chris says, smirking.

“Was he, now?” Maes says, grinning wolfishly. “I have an idea of how long you hid it from me, but I’m  _ dying  _ to hear your side of it, Ms. Mustang.”

“ _ Maes- _ ” Roy starts, but Chris leaps upon the chance before he can protest it.

“Oh, it was practically  _ star-crossed _ ,” she waxes. “There were sparks from the moment you first met. He’d talk about you all the time when he called me from the Academy - as in, how much he  _ hated  _ you.”

Roy groans, and Maes throws back his head in laughter. “Ah, man- that checks out,” Maes wheezes. “I  _ was  _ a pretty big asshole back then.”

“ _ Was _ ,” Roy drawls sarcastically, earning him a playful jab in the shoulder from his husband. 

“Shut up, I’m better now!”

“Debatable,” Gracia murmurs sleepily from the other end of the sofa.

“Don’t you two start again-”

“You three are  _ adorable _ ,” Chris laughs. “I’ll admit, I was worried when you and Gracia hooked up and poor Roy was left out- but I’m glad it’s worked out now.”

Maes’ laughter grew uncomfortable. “Ah, well, I- I didn’t know. Or I wouldn’t open myself to it, I guess. I just- didn’t think it was an option at first, you know?”

“I know, dear,” Chris says. “I’m sure your family didn’t help there. We’ve all had our run-ins with conservatives - my brother probably would have balked at the idea if he were still here, rest his soul.”

“My father,” Roy muses at the mention. “Do you think… would he have accepted me, Auntie?” He asks with genuine curiosity, only tinged with sadness at its edges. Chris frowns, and thinks, and hugs Roy more closely.

“With time, darling, with time,” she says finally. “He was still a good man. And people change, they always do.”

“Yeah, we changed,” Maes says, after pecking Roy’s cheek with affection. “We went from hating each other’s guts to  _ this _ . Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Yeah, Roy hums, growing quiet as he feels another pang from a fake contraction creeping upon him - he’s been dealing with them on and off all day, but they feel more intense than earlier in the week...

“And say, I wanted to ask,” Maes continues. “If you liked me for that long, why didn’t you say anything? I mean, I’m sure Ishval had to do with it, but-”

“That  _ is  _ part of it,” Roy murmurs. “But- hm. It’s uh, hard to explain,” he trails off, suppressing a grunt of pain.

Chris eyes him for a moment, then takes over in his explanation. “You see, Roy was in a very… tenuous place in his life, you could say. When he started attending the Academy, he’d only recently changed his name and started his medications, as I recall.”

She exchanges glances with Roy, who nods to confirm this.

“-Oh,” Maes says. “So you were still… in-between, kind of?”

“In a sense, yes,” Chris replies. “Physically  _ and  _ emotionally. Very insecure, very frightened, poor thing. He’d call me many times to talk about how scared he was of anyone finding out about his ‘secret’. And we all know how the military tends to treat people who are…  _ different _ .” She says the word with a disgusted sneer.

Maes hums, nodding. “Yeah, yeah… didn’t want to get too close to anyone, then.”

“That, and he couldn’t  _ allow  _ himself to,” Chris continues. “Opening up his heart to anyone would risk his career, maybe his life, but most of all, it would’ve betrayed everything he was building up about himself. Admitting to being in love with you, a  _ man _ , would’ve made him no different than the young lady he once resembled.”

She shrugs, frowning slightly. “...That was misguided, obviously, but like I said, he was young and insecure. And, obviously, Ishval didn’t help with that.”

Maes nods slowly, frowning. “Mm. I see.”

He looks back to Roy, seeing something pained in his husband’s face, and huddles closer to wrap his arms around his shoulders and press his face into his dark hair. “But I wish I could… y’know,  _ really _ understand, completely. So I can be better for you,” he murmurs softly.

Roy snuggles against him, his warmth a small balm for his pain, both from his stomach and the memories. “That’s okay,” he whispers. “Just trying helps. Just  _ being  _ here, for me- that helps.”

He feels another pang, more acute this time, and can’t quite suppress a groan from it. Chris sits up at his other side. “Darling, what’s wrong? Are you-”

“False alarms, Auntie, false alarms,” Roy says hurriedly, a little strained. “It’ll pass in a minute-”

“Roy, you’re due at any  _ moment _ , Gracia says, now sounding more awake. “Those might not be false anymore.”

“Hey hey, easy now,” Maes says, supporting Roy against him. “I know I kept joking about the baby being the best Yule present, but I wasn’t  _ serious- _ ”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Roy cuts in, leaning away, breathing easier since the pain was now fading. “It’s passing now, I’m okay- just like I said.”

There’s a beat of audible relief between everyone. Chris shakes her head, still frowning with concern. “Still, too close for comfort- you should really get some rest, dear. It’s late anyhow.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Maes says. “C’mon honey, let’s go to bed already.” 

Roy gives a small sigh, mainly at the prospect of trying to stand up again. “Alright, alright…”

\---

Maes was a light sleeper for as long as he could remember. This was useful after becoming a soldier, needing to be alert at all times on the warfront - it was not useful after he came back to city life, gained a stressful, overworking job, and was expected to still function as a normal human being. After that, he was nearly an insomniac.

He has spent many long, lonely nights alone in his own bed, with his own wife and child - he has spent countless more  before he was married at all. Being married a second time, to a second partner, has not lessened this - but it has made it a little easier. Because at the very least, he can be comfortably trapped between two partners and feel safe, no matter what his paranoid brain tells him, and lying still and quiet between them for long enough can finally set him drifting into unconsciousness.

So it’s just his damn luck that on this particular night, Yule’s Eve, of all evenings, he is tired and content enough to actually fall asleep within a reasonable span of time, and sleep soundly - and then be rudely shaken awake only a few hours later by a trembling hand and distressed voice.

“Maes- Maes, Gracey, wake up. You were right, I think-  _ ugh-  _ I think it’s coming-”

“Ngh- Roy?” Maes drawls out sleepily. “What- What’s coming?”

“The  _ baby _ , you idiot, we-  _ ow-  _ we need to  _ go- _ ”

“Coming…?” Gracia yawns awake. “What- Oh, oh god, Roy-”

Gracia’s form jerks to an upright position at his other side, jostling Maes further, and now there is no hope of him returning to that blessed space of mind where he is genuinely sleepy - instead it is replaced with panic over the realization that Roy is in labor.

“ _ Shit- _ ” he curses, and all but leaps to his feet from their shared bed - tight quarters in an already-small guest room - and haphazardly gets himself dressed as Gracia eases Roy to his feet, taking him through the breathing exercises they’d been practicing for months in preparation for this. They ease the pain, allegedly.

Maes can’t really tell as they shuffle out into the hallway, watching Roy double over from the contractions when they come, wishing he could do something, anything - he hates feeling helpless, and didn’t enjoy this when Elicia was born.

They turn a corner towards the living room, and he nearly jumps out of his skin - coming down another hallway is Chris and a few of her girls, wearing robes and holding oil lamps.

Chris’s eyes widen at the sight of them, and she lifts her lantern to look better. “It’s happening?” she asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” Maes and Gracia say, almost in unison.

“Hmph! I knew it. C’mon then, we’ll take my car, it’s roomier.”

\---

The next several hours are a blur, between the haze of pain Roy is experiencing and the panic everyone else is having. The car ride consisted of Gracia sitting by him in the back seats, breathing in time with him in their exercises, and Chris at his other side, instructing him to rock himself to and fro to ease the pressure. Maes and one of his sisters, Bridget he recalls, sat at the front of the car, struggling with maps and directions in the pitch-black of the night, toward the Central hospital where his specialized doctor would ensure a discreet delivery.

There was a lot of yelling and cursing, mostly from Maes against Central’s ‘backwards-ass street system,’ but at some point they finally arrived and Maes all but launched himself from the driver’s seat to run inside and schedule with the doctor. Soon, Roy was being lowered into a wheelchair and sped along into an operating room by a nurse, meeting with his doctor, and then entering the painful, arduous process of childbirth.

He tries not to dwell on anything - if he does, it’s on the small things. Gracia and Chris squeezing his hands as they lead him through various pain-relieving positions; Maes kissing his sweating forehead and muttering small prayers; everyone’s praise and encouragement at even the smallest amounts of progress.

In short, it’s as awful as Gracia warned him it would be, even with painkillers - but eventually, blessedly, he hears the tiny cries of the child he’s brought into existence, and when they are cleaned and brought into his waiting arms, he is told they are a healthy baby boy. As planned, he is named Elias Mustang Hughes. 

Poor Elicia - she was looking forward to a sister.

\---

The golden light of morning peaks over dark winter clouds, and gently streams through the plain curtains of the hospital room - morning is here, on the Winter Solstice, and Roy’s family has welcomed the birth of their son.

There was a flurry of emotions within and without him as Roy first held his child in his arms - rampant thoughts of “oh my god I’m holding a tiny person in my arms that I made inside my body and he’s  _ here  _ and he’s  _ mine _ ”; Maes kissing him over and over, practically sobbing with happiness; Gracia all but climbing into the bed with them to hug him, also crying; Chris nearly shoving them both aside to get a closer look at her new grand-nephew and saying, “Oh, Roy… he looks like your mother, a little.” And that got Roy’s waterworks flowing as well.

Things have calmed down by now - Gracia has taken Elias aside (making Roy begrudgingly let go of him) to feed him milk formula she’d prepared ahead of time, seeing as Roy was not equipped to do so; Maes is pacing the room and whispering curses at himself for forgetting his camera in all the rush; Chris has pulled up a chair by Roy’s bedside to tell him more stories about his parents and the days he himself was an infant.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, and it creaks open - a nurse peeks in, saying “Excuse me - Hughes family? You have visitors- erm, a lot of them.”

“Oh, uh- let them in,” Maes stammers as he goes to the door, and he opens it fully.

Once again there a flurry of activity, for as soon as the door is thrown open, a small throng of people and things make their way inside the room. Gracia’s parents and aunts, Elicia and her cousins, Roy’s sisters, and Riza, Breda and Falman, all file inside with armfuls of boxes, baskets, and other containers filled to the brim with Yule decorations - the decorations from the house, Roy realizes, as they set about placing them around the hospital room in a similar manner to how they were back at the house. 

Sebastian, broad and strong, even carries the entire Yule tree into the room with Breda and Falman’s assistance, setting it in the corner and piling the wrapped presents underneath it, just like it was in the parlor.

The nurses and doctors, of course, are none too happy about this; neither is Gracia, because the noise and commotion makes little Elias start crying again, and she has to place him back into Roy’s arms to calm him. Gabriella apologizes for everyone, but soon the work is done and things have settled again.

Bridget, who was nowhere to be seen during his labor, Roy realizes belatedly, turns to them and smiles triumphantly after placing the last of the decorations. “Sorry for the mess,” she says. “I called the house while you were in delivery to tell them the news, and Ms. Gabby had the  _ best  _ idea - since you guys would be stuck here and missing the party, we brought the party to  _ you _ !”

Roy doesn’t know what to say to this; Gracia’s anger is calmed, but still thinks the whole thing’s a bit excessive (but it  _ is  _ something her mother would absolutely do); Maes is completely flabbergasted, mouth hanging open stupidly.

This is quickly rectified by Elicia approaching her mother and father to berate them - “You made me miss the baby! Why didn’t you wake me?!”

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Gracia tells her, lifting her into her arms to make up for it with hugs. “But it was the middle of the night, and we were in a hurry.”

“You wouldn’t have liked it anyway,” Maes says nonchalantly. “Just a lot of screaming and crying. But look, honey- this is your baby brother, Elias.”

Elicia stares at the bundle in Roy’s arms - then pinches with disgust. “I thought it was a  _ girl-  _ and he’s so  _ ugly _ .”

“He was just  _ born _ , dear, give him a break,” Roy says tiredly, but he’s laughing too. “You looked a lot like this when you were born too, as I recall.”

“Gross!” Elicia cries, shaking her pigtails, and Maes and Gracia are laughing as well.

And the rest of that day was just as enjoyable - the other guests acquainted themselves with little Elias and extended praise and congratulations to the family; presents were given out and opened with much joy and appreciation; food and drink was brought and shared over happy conversations; even music was brought in the form of Riza’s portable radio to smooth out the atmosphere with pleasant, quiet jazz.

The Yule gifts ran the gamut from clothes and candy to tools and appliances, some a perfect match to their recipients, others not so much, but nonetheless appreciated - after all, the most important aspect of the gift-giving was the well-wishes given alongside the physical presents. According to Sebastian, the ancient tribes of Amestris who started this tradition exchanged nothing more than small good-luck charms under their trees, for hope to survive the rest of the bitter winters.

For indeed, there is an overwhelming atmosphere of hope in this hospital room - for love, living, and a brighter future, especially after the strife of the past several years. For Roy, this is most evident in the new life he now holds in his arms.

\---

Nearly a month later, the Hughes family have long since returned to their home with little Elias in tow - and as Gracia also warned, it is very tiring to care for a newborn. Especially with a somewhat-bratty four-year-old who must now deal with the reality of no longer being the sole center of attention from her parents.

But between the three of them, it’s manageable - two people to exchange shifts of sleeping and tending to the baby, a third person to tend to Elicia’s needs.

It was harder in the beginning, with Roy not only being new at this, but also very drained from the effort of delivery - luckily they received helpful visitors every few days after the Solstice, in the form of Gracia’s relatives, Chris and the girls, or members of Roy and Maes’ squadrons. For those who were absent, it also serves as their first opportunity to see little Elias and extend their congratulations (Armstrong, in his usual form, burst into tears at the sight of the child, he was so happy).

So far, only Elicia is unimpressed with her baby brother - on top of not being a girl, she complains of his small size and inability to walk, dashing her hopes of a new playmate anytime soon, and that he does nothing but sleep, eat, cry, and soil his diapers.

Again, her parents must remind her that he is mere  _ weeks  _ old, and she was much the same at that age. And again, she does not believe them. Ah, children.

One morning, finally feeling hale and healthy enough, Roy spends a few hours sitting outside on the porch with his coffee, watching morning traffic go by as the sun rises over Central’s skyline.

And it’s strange - he feels kind of empty, somehow, despite how full his life is. He must be slipping back into his low moods again - Gracia warned of postpartum depression as well. He tries not to dwell on it, as usual - he sips his sweetened coffee, watches the sunlight dance upon steel and wood rooftops, and wonders what sort of person his son will grow up to be.

He can’t settle on an answer - who could, with how broad the possibilities could be - but he does hope beyond all hopes, that Elias, and Elicia as well, will be better than the terrible mistakes their fathers have committed and still live with.

There is a shifting behind him suddenly, and the opening and closing of the front door - Roy turns to see Maes joining him on the porch, pulling up a deck chair beside him.

“Good mornin,” Maes says, pecking Roy’s cheek. “You’re up early. Feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” Roy says, shrugging. “How are the kids doing?”

“Eli’s been fed, so he’s down for the count for now,” Maes says. “And Elicia’s still sleeping. Gracey’s tucking in for a nap while it’s safe, and sent me to check on you.”

“Oh,” Roy says. “Well, like I said, I’m fine, so…”

“Are you?” Maes asks, eyes searching. “I mean, I know it’s been a while, but you had a rough time of it- if anything’s bothering you, you can tell me, hun. You know I’m always here.”

Roy frowns, and attempts to deflect him again - but as usual, his husband’s pretty, pleading eyes make it hard to keep up any facade for very long.

He sighs sadly. “I don’t know- I’m still tired, I guess. And I keep thinking…”

“Of what?”

Roy pauses, thinks for a long while, bothering his lower lip with his teeth again.

“Maes,” he says finally. “What are we going to tell them? About us, and what we’ve done?”

He swallows, thick with emotion suddenly. “How- how do I tell my son about  _ Ishval _ ?”

Maes’ smile fades, his mouth a thin line, and he sits back, turning away. He searches the skyline for a small eternity, eyes squinting, as if searching for the answer. But eventually, he closes his eyes and exhales, and turns back to Roy.

“We’ll tell them everything,” he says solemnly. “The good, the bad- all of it. They deserve to know. We have to be better than the old bastards at Headquarters.”

“Mm,” Roy hums sadly. He’s right. He usually is.

“And then,” Maes says, taking Roy’s hand, squeezing it. “We’ll tell them to be better than us.”

He meets his eyes at that, and Roy can see something misty behind Maes’ glasses - and feels a prickling in his own. He dips his head and leans in, letting Maes hug him by the shoulders and lean against him in kind.

They watch the rest of the sunrise together. They hope that someday, their children will see something similar - a sun rising on a better world.

END.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! (in July. I know. Sorry.)  
>   
> 


End file.
